The above quote was spoken to me by Brian about Green Bay Packers QB Brett Favre. Brian had commented to me that Green Bay had no offensive line to protect Favre, and I replied by saying that he did not need one. And he is in fact not Chuck Norris, so therefore I guess a one man line is in order. But I swear to...ummm...a higher power when I say that I do not desire to watch any more highlights of Favre evading would be tacklers for about fifteen seconds then throwing a three foot underhanded shovel pass which is then turned into a three yard gain. THIS IS NOT A HIGHLIGHT. THIS IS THE KIND OF LAME STUFF THAT HAPPENS WHEN NON-PROFESSIONALS PLAY.
This past Sunday, I went to one of my favorite places in the world- the laundromat. It is a place, where first of all, I can do one of my least favorite things, which is laundry, in a minimal amount of time with an elevated amount of entertainment; great music, great people, occasional homeless altercations...wow. For instance this past Sunday I arrived at the metallic den of washers and dryers around 11am to hear the delightful melody of Rick James' Superfreak (and this particular laundromat, located in in freethinking Venice, plays the actual songs, not the elevator music). This was enough to get me pretty pumped up for the cleaning of my garments, but I got even more amped when I reached the Super Large Washer area and heard a man loudly making commentary on the song to no one in particular:
(After the line "the kind you don't take home to mother" had just played)
"Hear that? He was still livin at home when he wrote this song...Hey Mom, don't worry about this girl I'm bringin home. Then he sold a million copies and moved out, but whaddya know, three months later..'Hey Mom! I'm movin back in, I smoked all those crack rocks and I'm movin back in."
Wow. This was going to be a special laundry experience.
But then, the unexpected happened. My fellow launderers let me down in a big way, not once, not twice, but three times. Allow me to explain. Everytime I go to one of these locations, I secretly hope that a truly cinematic well-choreographed dance routine on top of washers, dryers and folding tables will suddenly erupt. For some reason this past Sunday I was even more hopeful than usual.
As I began folding my first load, I walked over to an empty folding table with my back to the room and heard what I thought to be a perfect song for everyone to bust out into dance- an old Michael Jackson favorite- "Pretty Young Thing". I could feel the smile creep onto my face as I slowly glanced back over my shoulder, ready to see the Mexican family to my right jump on top of the single load washers and start the room a dancin. Nevermind that none of us had ever met (although the Mexican family may have had some practice together) nor really had any dancing abilities, it would just be one of those magic moments when feet would know how to move, hands would know when to do a rhythmic jazz shake, and more capable men would be aware of when to toss around women back and forth across aisles. Alas, no one else seemed to notice and I reluctantly returned to folding my laundry, thinking that maybe this was just not the right song or the right moment.
No more than ten minutes later Prince's "When Doves Cry" came blaring over the sound system, seemingly louder than the past few songs, chiding everyone to grab any purple-tinted article they could grab and get ready for the dance and most memorable moment of their to this point feeble existences. I was thinking some low to the ground, walking forward in a flying V pattern snapping was in order. However, as I turned around to do so, I noticed only one other patron that may have been ready for this twinkle in time, but alas she was just using some very emphatic gestures for folding some garments.
I had to use the old noggin once again to think what had gone wrong. Catchy song? Check. Lots of people, having fun? Check. Purpley colored stuff around? I guess some people had some, so check. Appropriate things to jump around on and slide under for a good dance routine? Check. Maybe the songs were too old for this generally younger crowd, maybe the well choreographed top secret dance routine had happened before I got there, maybe I was just not reading the moment right...but I just had no clue.
Just as I was putting my laundry in my bag and ready to head home, I got that gleam in my eye once again when some Justin Timberlake song came on (true I did once announce I was upset with all the female singers playing on the radio presets only to discover that one of them was in fact Timberlake) and I was thinking....this is it...a trendy new song for this younger crowd...it's time to fuckin dance. And nothing. No one even flinched.
After I was asked to get down off the folding table and once I explained I was already on my way out, they still asked me not to come back. I think I know why: they knew they were only another visit or two from me away from turning into the trendiest laundromat in all of LA.
No comments:
Post a Comment